


Interlude

by hapfish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of blood and violence, Post-Time Skip, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapfish/pseuds/hapfish
Summary: Since reuniting with their class in the Garreg Mach Monastery, Byleth has felt the cold trail of death that stalks their former students--Dimitri most of all. With the war against the Empire on the rise, Dimitri continually throws himself into danger alone despite his newly recovered allies. His silence and self enforced isolation are unnerving at best and extremely worrying at worst, so when they catch Dimitri wince away from threats that aren’t there Byleth steels themself and dives headfirst into helping the King exorcise the demons that haunt him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 5





	Interlude

The thick furs hung heavy and burdened across Dimitri’s shoulders. They looked like they were crushing him, but Byleth knew it was not his armor that weighed on him. He curled himself against the wall of the decrepit chapel, the minute clinking of his armor evidence of fearful shivering. Byleth leaned in closer from their kneeling position, offering their help with a gentle hand. Dimitri slapped it away instantly. His gaze raised just enough to meet his professor's eyes, leering through them. Moonlight streamed through the enormous hole in the ceiling, casting gentle shadows along the feral king’s pale face. His eye, though unfocused, appeared to dart from Byleth's to something behind them before returning to meet their questioning gaze. Dimitri, once refined in his youth, now seemed like a wild animal, backed into a corner and surrounded by predators. 

Byleth almost hesitated, almost pulled away, but knew as soon as they did that their student would close himself off completely to suffer alone. Above all else, retreating was not an option. Byleth wracked their strategist trained mind for a solution, but only saw the image of Dimitri standing alone in the chapel between battles, day after day, chasing away any comfort or company. He closed himself off so he never had to lose those he cared about again, but left himself completely alone. 

Byleth couldn't leave him to stand alone again.

Dust from the debris caught the soft blue lighting, making their surroundings seem hazy. Byleth inched within reach of the feral king and kneeled within swiping distance, but they were willing to take whatever hit he threw. If they needed to take a punch for his sake they would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Back then,” they began slowly, softly, “when I discovered you holed up in the chapel tower, you begged me not to haunt you as well. Are you haunted, Dimitri?” 

“Leave me,” Dimitri commanded, growing irritated. He stiffened like he was threatened.

“Do you haunt yourself?”

“Enough!” He raged, bouncing up from his tightly curled position on the floor. His hand swiped in front of him as if he was trying to push a person--a thought--aside. He sat upright, eye aflame. His chest heaved with the effort and energy his anger cost until his stiff posture deflated in defeat. “All of you. Enough.”

Byleth paused for a moment before continuing, but Dimitri looked too drained to protest. Too many sleepless nights finally caught up to the battle ravaged Lord. “I’m not here to add to your anguish, Dimitri. I know you've been through more than most grown men would be able to stomach. But you aren’t coping. You cannot survive in this state.” Their speal earned them little more than a grunt as Dimitri concealed his eye behind his rugged bangs. “You seek revenge not for your own sake but for your family, but they would never wish to see you destroy yourself like this. What you witness are only apparitions of your guilt, they are not your fault and they are not what you deserve.”

The King shook now, his shoulders turning inward to hide himself and make his large frame seem impossibly small. His bowed head shuddered with the tension in his neck. As Byleth opened their mouth to continue, he interrupted.

“They’re so loud. They beg me to take the Empress’s head, plead with me to let her blood fill the cracks in the streets her marching soldiers now tread. Mother, Father... Even Glenn keeps me awake with his pleas. They’re so insistent. I know not any other way to quell their hatred,” he tried to rationalize with himself, his tired state momentarily breaking the walls he went through so much effort to forge. Byleth took the chance to shuffle just a bit closer, and when Dimitri did not protest they fully bridged the gap between them. With only inches between them now, the professor could see the slow tears sliding down his chestplate, illuminated faintly by the light of the stars. He cried silently, pushed to break by his own inner turmoil. They placed a hand over his, clasped tightly in his lap, then moved their right hand to brush away the tears falling from his one uninjured eye with their knuckle. Tenderly, Byleth's hand soon unfurled to cup his cheek in their palm. Not able to feel him through his thick glove, Byleth slowly placed their other hand on his right cheek. He drifted into the newly placed hand, touch starved after years of isolation and bloodshed.

"Have your hands always been this warm?" Dimitri’s voice was barely above a whisper, the soft plink of tiny teardrops onto his armor almost drowning out his query. Byleth traced across his cheek with a gentle thumb, stubbornly holding onto his willingness to be vulnerable. As long as he felt their touch, as long as Dimitri knew he wasn't alone, Byleth was content staying like this. For as long as he needed, they would stay, cradling his cheeks in their hands. Dimitri sobbed silently, tears racing over the tops over their hand, his face burning hot under their touch. Byleth leaned in the last inch and pressed their forehead to his, Dimitri's long, unruly mane intertwining with their bangs. He hummed low, sounding almost like a whimper, and his hands met his. The Great Lord grasped their hands under his own, detaining them. They sat in silence for a spell; Dimitri held his eye shut to hide his private shame. 

After a moment he released his grip on their hands and arched forward to lean his forehead against Byleth's shoulder, sliding from their grasp. The professor's hands instead found purchase running slow, soothing circles along his back and laced in his messy golden hair. His hanging hands looped under Byleth's arms and held their back, gripping the fabric of their robes in tight fists. Dimitri buried his eyes in the crook of their neck when their hair tickled his face.

“Dimitri, you are not the savage animal you make yourself out to be. You are not responsible for their deaths, and you are not responsible for Edelgard. For your own sake, take the time to grieve properly,” Byleth murmured into his ear as he settled to rest. “Take the time to heal.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet from a fic I would love to write but am too damn tired to hahah. I may try again in the future but this is the first time I've shared my writing, so any kudos or comments are greatly welcome!


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